You and Me
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: "We could make our own little world out here, you and me." Written for BShiatusfics, based on the prompt "vacation."


**Title:** _You and Me_ (1/1)

 **Universe:** _Blindspot,_ season 1

 **Rating** : PG/PG-13

 **Pairing** : Jane Doe/Kurt Weller

 **Prompt** : Vacation

 **Summary** : "We could make our own little world out here, you and me."

 **A/N** : Someone please stop me from overwriting. This was just supposed to be a really quick thing. And now it's this. Someone please help.

This was written for #BShiatusfics, under the prompt "vacation" for week one, though I completely failed to get it in on time. Hope you guys like it regardless. :)

. . .

It's two minutes to the end of the day before Christmas break, and Jane swears she's never seen the twelfth floor of the FBI busier. You'd think a major disaster, or a terrorist attack, or some other kind of unimaginable horror had just hit the country from the way people are literally running through the halls, trying to get everything done before break begins.

Having little left to do, Jane just sits back and watches them all, her eyes reflexively lingering on her own team: Patterson clacking away at the computer like she can key it into submission and defeat; Reade scribbling so fast on paperwork that when his hand cramps, he just switches the pen to his other hand and keeps writing; Tasha shoving files away so quickly she's getting paper cuts but not caring; and Kurt—

She looks around for him, expecting to see him somewhere in the vicinity, toiling away with the rest, but after looking all around the room, he's nowhere to be seen. She doubts he's already left; he wouldn't abandon his team here to do all the work, especially not right before winter vacation. So where could he—

"Hey."

She jumps in her chair at the sound of his voice so close, immediately swiveling around to find him standing just behind her, still bent a little at the waist from whispering in her ear. A smile flashes quickly across his tired face when he sees her surprise, and she can't help it: like a chemical reaction, she smiles when he smiles.

"You almost ready to go?"

His voice is quiet, but even so, Jane finds herself checking over her shoulder, to see if anyone's listening. But Reade's still writing furiously, locked into the zone, and Tasha looks like not even an earthquake would stop her from getting that filing done. And Patterson's too far away to hear.

"Ready," she answers Kurt, but she stays in her chair. "I don't want to leave until the rest of the team is done, though."

"Didn't think you would." He spares another quick smile her way before stepping back, and walking a few feet away to position himself in the middle of the team. "Guys," he calls out. "Hey, guys—"

No one looks up. Patterson's face has all but become part of her computer, and Reade's so close to his paperwork he might as well be glued to it. Tasha is one with the filing system.

Kurt glances sidelong at Jane, who shrugs.

"Maybe you should get an airhorn," she suggests. She heard one on the street the other day, and it was so loud when it went off that she screamed, in addition to jumping a foot in the ear. She'd like to see Reade's and Tasha's and Patterson's reactions if someone broke their zen so violently right now.

In the end, Kurt settles for clapping his hands and shouting, which still has the desired effect, and even does end up making Patterson jump a little bit at her computer.

"Time to get out," he calls. "Go home. Drink and be merry and don't show your faces anywhere near here until the second, all right?"

Jane could swear his eyes linger on her a bit as he says that last part, and she bites the inside of her lip so she won't smile. He should know, better than anyone, that her plans for vacation do not involve the twelfth floor. For once.

In a mix of obedience and excitement, the team drops their tasks, leaving what little is left to those who will be on duty over the break. Tasha is the first to flee, leaving her desk a mess of half-finished files as she heads straight for the locker room. Reade does his part to make his space a little orderly, but even he only stops a moment to scribble one or two quick instructions on a Post-It note before fleeing to the locker room, too. And once her computer is logged out and secured, Patterson's headed off to get changed, too. Jane watches her go with particular happiness; Patterson's going to be going home to visit her family in Oregon over the break, and Jane couldn't be happier for her. They all know it hasn't been easy for the analyst since her boyfriend died nearly two months ago, and Jane's relieved that she'll be surrounded by family instead of alone during the break.

Tasha will also be spending some time with her own family, Jane knows; and Reade will be headed over to Connecticut this evening to visit with his for a while. They all shared their plans with each other last week over drinks after work, first excitedly, and then hesitantly, as they all remembered Jane was with them.

Thankfully, she had been able to truthfully tell them all that, despite not having a family to visit, she'd already made plans. She'll be having Christmas dinner with Kurt—which isn't a lie—but it also isn't exactly the whole truth. But it was enough for them at the time, and she was relieved not to have to extrapolate at that point. She and Kurt still haven't yet figured out what's the best way to break the news to the team that they're dating—and have been for quite a while—but Jane knew intuitively that blurting it out over drinks after work would _not_ be a good idea.

When she'd told them her plans—or part of them—the air in the room had shifted a little. Reade had backed off immediately, Patterson gave her a little smile, and Tasha had just raised her eyebrows—but for once, she didn't say anything. Jane knew the familial feeling of the holidays made them all both a little nicer and a little guiltier. Everyone knows she doesn't have any family to go spend her holidays with, not unless she wants to go visit Emma Shaw's grave in Clearfield and play pretend.

So she was glad to be able to put forth her plans, along with the rest. Not just because it ended the sad looks going her way, but also because, the more time she's been spending with Kurt's family, the more she's starting to very privately consider them her own. Not Taylor's, but _hers_.

She hasn't spoken about this to him—she isn't stupid; they've only been dating for two months, and even she who knows nothing knows that two months is next to nothing—but the closer they get to the holidays, the more she's wondering if they should think about having a talk sometime soon. Or maybe not a talk. Maybe they can just lie in bed, and she can try, as always, to communicate the sentiment tactilely, with her only words being little more than whispers of his name. She's gotten good at that, these past few weeks. So has he.

"You good to go?"

Jane starts again at the sound of Kurt's voice, lost so far in her thoughts that she hadn't even realized she'd finished collecting her things, let alone that the others had left, or that Kurt was waiting for her.

He smiles when she catches his eye, the visible joy on his face a hint that they're alone now. "We gotta get you out of here. You're jumpier than a rabbit."

"Just thinking," she excuses, heading to the door, with him following behind.

"About what?" he asks as they cross the floor, but there are still a few agents milling around, and Jane waits until they're in the elevator, and the doors are closed, until she answers.

"I'm thinking about how excited I am to go on my first vacation with you."

He grins, and doesn't waste a second in pulling her to him, and kissing her firmly on the mouth. She smiles, laughing a little into the kiss—he's always so eager the first moments that they're alone after being apart all day—but when he deepens the kiss, and she tastes his tongue against hers, the humor stops and the desire begins. She knows they only have seconds until they reach the lobby—perhaps less, if someone else calls the elevator—and she does her best, as always, of making what time they have together worth it. She wraps her arms around his neck, running her hands through his short hair eagerly, wishing they had more time, more space, more _everything_.

"All week," he reminds her, finally breaking the kiss just as the elevator's starting to slow. "We've got all week, after Christmas Day."

She smiles, nodding, a little to breathless from the kiss, and from the future, to speak. He squeezes her hand just before the doors slide open, and then they step out, a couple polite feet between them, as they head to the curb. She goes home with her security detail, and he drives himself to his apartment, and she tries not to feel disappointed as she watches him leave without her. She'll be at his house two days from now for Christmas dinner, and after that, they'll be together all week at his family's old cabin in Pennsylvania, just the two of them. No need to get greedy now.

While the two days without him—while he's busy visiting his estranged father at his sister's pleading request—seem to drag on endlessly, Christmas itself flies by. Sarah invites Jane over early, to help make cookies and wrap a couple last-minute presents, and so instead of just coming by for dinner around seven or so, she's there for brunch, too, and an afternoon snack, and dinner and drinks. She's there for frosting cookies and wrapping and unwrapping presents, and she's there for when Sawyer falls asleep beside her during family stories on the couch and then she's there for when the less-PG-rated stories come pouring out afterwards—from Sarah, of course, but also from Kurt.

The Weller siblings tell their stories vindictively, each trying to embarrass the other more, or make the other laugh harder, and by the end, they're even telling stories about her, Jane, and she thinks that if she didn't know what a family was before, or didn't think she had one, she does now.

Kurt doesn't stop touching her all night—he holds her hand or wraps an arm around her shoulders or kisses the top of her head when he gets up to get another drink—and yet the best part is still that Sarah doesn't even blink in the face of it all. A few times, Jane even catches Kurt's sister smiling at them out of the corner of her eye, when she thinks Jane isn't paying attention. She doesn't know how to explain how it feels, how _good_ it feels, not just to be accepted by Kurt, but by Sarah too, and even Sawyer, who fell asleep curled up next to her early in the evening. Of course Sarah's known about them since practically the beginning, but it's one thing for her to know it's happening, and one thing for her to be actively happy that it's happening.

Sometime long after midnight, after they've exhausted yet another bottle of wine, Jane volunteers herself to go into the kitchen to open another. Sarah and Kurt have been arguing about something from their childhood—some broken lamp, and who it was that really broke it—and they have both been so adamant that they other had done it that Jane had to leave the room so she wouldn't laugh in their faces. Still, it's nice to hear them argue about something so trivial for once.

She grabs a bottle from the cabinet to the left of the stove, and she's just starting to wind the corkscrew down to pull the cork out when she hears footsteps entering the room. She's expecting it to be Kurt—she heard his voice die down a few seconds ago—but when she turns, it's Sarah standing there, holding onto the kitchen counter as if she needs it to keep herself upright.

Jane stops what she's doing at once, setting aside the bottle and hurrying to her side. There's no way Sarah had drunk enough tonight to be unsteady on her feet, so she Jane thinks it must be something else—

And then she sees the tears hanging in Sarah Weller's eyes and her whole world spins for a moment.

Because of course it had to go all wrong. They'd been having a perfect night, a _perfect_ Christmas, of _course_ it has to all crash and burn at the last second—

She wants to scream. God damn Kurt for picking a fight with his sister on Christmas. Doesn't he know any better? Doesn't he have _any_ self-control to just let things lie, and enjoy himself and let others enjoy themselves? For _one_ night?

She starts to apologize for him, to draw Sarah into her arms and offer what comfort she can, but Sarah puts up a hand, stopping her.

"I just… Jane, I wanted to say…" The blonde woman heaves a breath, forcing a smile that Jane is quietly shocked to see looks genuine. She watches, frozen in worry and silence as Sarah takes a second to wipe her eyes and settle her breathing. She's just about to open her mouth to speak, but Jane can't wait—

"What did he do?" she demands. "What'd he say?"

"What? Who, Kurt?" Sarah looks bewildered, and frowns at the woman standing in front of her.

"Yes," Jane nearly shouts, wishing he were standing in front of her and not Sarah. Sarah isn't the person she should be yelling at. "Yes, what did he do? What'd he say that made you cry?"

"Oh, no, he didn't do anything—" Sarah lets out a breathless laugh, covering her mouth for a brief second before grabbing onto Jane's hand. Her grip is tight, and Jane's eyes flicker down to it, and then back to Sarah's face, which is smiling, but still red-rimmed. Her smile falters for a moment, as she looks up, finding Jane's eyes and holding her gaze for a silent moment. It's been months since she's stopped being nervous around Sarah Weller, but suddenly it's like they're back in time two months, with Kurt breaking the news, and Sarah eyeing her across the kitchen table…

"It's you," Sarah says quietly, that little smile propping up her lips again, brightening her red face just a bit. " _You're_ the reason I'm crying, and I don't know what to—Oh, no, I'm sorry, that came out wrong," she hurries to say, seeing the fear in Jane's eyes. Sarah takes a slow, deep breath, still holding tight onto Jane's hand. After a second, when she opens her eyes again, they're clear. They're deep. And they're staring right into Jane's so intently that Jane's scared Sarah can suddenly see into her mind. For the hundredth time, Jane wonders what in the world Sarah sees when she looks at her.

"I just, um… I wanted to tell you that we haven't had a Christmas like this in a long time, Jane. I don't mean we've been unhappy," she adds quickly. "Kurt's always done his best to act happy for Sawyer, because he's a boy and he _needs_ a happy family around him, but… But that's what it's always been, Jane, an act. And tonight…" She shakes her head, and Jane can see the tears starts in Sarah's eyes again; she can feel her own throat start to close up.

"You know those things we've been talking about tonight? All those stupid stories and the arguments about the lamp and everything? He and I—we haven't talked like that in years. Decades. And I know, I _know_ that if you weren't here with us, we still wouldn't be talking. We'd be trying to have fun, trying to be happy, but it wouldn't work, because half of us would still… Still be gone."

When Sarah tightens her grip even further on Jane's hand, Jane worries she might be just be a few seconds away from fracturing a finger or two, but she doesn't try to say anything. She can hardly breathe.

"But you've… You've brought him back. You've made him happy. You've made my brother _so_ happy, and I—" When Sarah draws in a breath, it's like a scream, but she's still smiling, smiling so wide it looks like it hurts, and Jane can't do anything but watch and listen, dumbfounded, as Sarah's voice breaks on every other word but she still never stops smiling. "You've given me my brother back, Jane. And I don't know how to thank you. I don't know what to say, because you—you don't know what it's like, to never see him smile, and then to suddenly see him smile all the time, for no reason, the way he does since he's been with you. You don't know what it's like to hear him laugh and to know that it's not fake anymore, it's not a show for someone. It's not just for Sawyer, or it's not just for me…"

Sarah sniffs, wiping her eyes and nose with her wrist, and Jane takes the opportunity to draw in a ragged, rattling breath. She still doesn't know what to say. She doesn't know what to think.

"He hasn't been the same since she went missing," Sarah whispers, her voice lowering now, accompanying Jane's heart as it falls. "He—He hasn't been my brother since she disappeared, not really. And I know—" Sarah takes both Jane's hands, and shakes them tight, as if knowing where the other woman is falling to, and how fast. "Oh, Jane, I know you might not be her. I know you don't _want_ to be her; I can—I can see it. And I think—I don't even think that's what it's about anymore, at least not for him." She gives Jane a watery smile, and somehow, some way, Jane manages to give her one back. "Watching you two tonight… I don't know what you have or haven't said to each other. But I want you to know that he loves you. I can see it in his face whenever he looks at you. He loves you, and it isn't about Taylor; it's about _you_. And I can see it in your face, too, I can see the happiness and the love, and I just want to say thank you. Thank you for bringing my brother back. Thank you for being the person that none of us knew he needed."

Sarah fall silent then, and as hard as she tries, Jane can't find a single thing to say to her after that. So she just steps forward and hugs her, hugs her long and hard, hugs her as she finally starts crying too, and then laughing, and then when she finally finds words, all she can do is whisper "Thank you" again and again. Sarah just pats her back through it all, and hugs and bobs with her like she's a baby, whispering all the while that it's all all right, that everything's fine, that Christmas is for crying and laughing and everything in between.

By the time Kurt comes wandering into the kitchen, wondering why no new bottle of wine ever appeared, and why both his girlfriend _and_ his sister abandoned him on Christmas, they're both back to normal as much as they can be. The tears are gone, at least. But Jane hasn't been able to let go of Sarah's hand.

Kurt eyes them suspiciously for a moment before announcing, "You've been talking about me all this time, haven't you."

Sarah laughs, squeezing Jane's hand. "My, I can't imagine how you solved that one, special agent," she jokes. "What a wonder. Even drunk, his deduction skills are top-notch." She smiles, catching Jane's eye as she pulls away and heads back to the living room. "I'm going to carry Sawyer to bed, but bring the wine with you when you come back in, all right?" she calls.

Kurt doesn't bother waiting until Sarah's out of earshot. "So?" he asks, walking up to Jane and resting his hands on her hips, pulling her towards him a little. "What was it? What embarrassing stories did she have to tell you in private that she couldn't even say in front of me?"

"No embarrassing stories," Jane answers, feeling her throat grow a little thick at the memory of all that Sarah did tell her. She steps forward into Kurt, wrapping her arms around his back as she hugs him, burying her face into his chest. She can't look at him and think about what Sarah said, at least not right now.

 _He loves you. I can see it in his face_.

"You doing okay?" he murmurs, his breath warm against her and his hand gentle as he strokes her hair, the way he always does when she needs comforting. She leans into his touch, needing it, and then nods against him quickly.

"Good," she manages to get out. "I'm good."

"You'd tell me if you weren't, though, wouldn't you? If you were upset about something?"

"I'm not upset." Jane lifts her head from his chest, finding his worried blue eyes staring down at her, not at all swayed. "I'm not," she whispers, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek. She brushes her thumb against the side of his nose, then lowers her hand until she's tracing the outline of his lips. "I'm just… really happy," she confesses finally, a smile breaking on her face. "I am, and it's—"

"Making you cry?"

Jane blinks, and it's only then that she realizes she _is_ crying, and has been crying, and somehow hasn't even felt it, at least not since he showed up. "Oh—" She lifts a hand to her face, feeling it come away wet. "I'm sorry—"

He shakes his head, removing her hand and wiping her face very gently with his thumbs. "Don't apologize," he murmurs. She stands still beneath him, waiting until he's gotten it all, and once he has, she expects him to let her go and step away, perhaps lead them back into the living room. But he just stands there, holding her face in his hands, staring down at her.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asks finally.

Jane, feeling her heart leap, nods. "Sure," she whispers, not knowing if she's even ready for this right now.

He takes a breath before her, and she watches his chest as it rises, then falls; she watches his eyes as they close and then open, and finally find hers.

"I've felt like crying all night," he confesses. "Not in a bad way, but in a good way," he hurries to say, as her heart rises even higher in her throat, all but cutting off her air supply. "It's just that…" He sighs quietly, looking at the floor as one of his hands falls to her neck, tracing the curves of the bird inked there. "Look, I know Sarah won't say anything about it, because she's been putting on a great front like this whole night has been normal, and all our Christmases are like this, but… The truth is, we haven't had a Christmas like this since we were kids. All those stories?" He shakes his head, and then chuckles a little. "The thing with the lamp? God, I haven't even thought about that since I was fifteen or so. And it _was_ Sarah's fault that it broke, by the way. She's the one who surprised me and—" He breaks off, catching the look on Jane's face, and smiles. "Never mind about that," he whispers.

"But all the rest…" He touches a hand beneath her chin, lifting it so they're level as they look at one another. "This is the best Christmas any of us have had in years. And you know it's because you're here, right? You know that you're the only thing that's changed, that's made anything better, in our lives. In my life. And…"

Jane finds she's holding her breath watching him, waiting, wondering if Sarah's right, and if he's going to say it now. Every part of her is gravitating towards him, wanting to hear it, even as her head is screaming that it's too soon, it has to be too soon, _what if it's too soon?_ , and if he says it now…

"I'm just really, really happy that you're here," Kurt finishes, the edges of his mouth pulling up a smile. "Really grateful."

When she looks up at him, and sees his eyes red and the way he's focusing too hard on her, she knows she's not the only one that's trying not to cry anyway. She lifts herself up on her toes, kisses his cheek, and then wraps her arms around his broad back.

"I'm happy too," she whispers, rubbing his back, latching onto the muscles there with her fingertips. "I'm grateful, too. More than you'll know."

The night is quite between them after that. Sarah and Kurt tell a few more stories, quieter ones now, with less laughs, about their mother or about their father when they were kids. Jane, sitting next to Kurt on the couch, waits for him to tense at the mention of his father, but he doesn't so much as frown. They haven't had a chance to talk about his earlier trip to visit his dad, but she hopes it went well. From his lack of anger at the moment, she thinks it has to have at least worked out the tension a little bit.

When the stories eventually peter out, and the wine stops being drunk, and they all fall into their own private silences, the night seems to quietly come to a close. Sarah's the first to rise, stretching a bit as she gets to her feet and says her goodbyes, and Jane jumps up as well, not willing to let the woman go without something so simple as a goodnight after all she's done.

Sarah doesn't seem surprised when Jane is the one to come forward and hug her this time, and Jane basks in the normalcy of it for a moment as Sarah holds her without comment.

"Thank you," Jane finally whispers, her voice low in Sarah's ear. "For everything, Sarah. Everything you said, and—and for everything tonight, too. Thank you for having me over."

"Anytime, Jane." She hugs the littler woman tight. "And don't worry about him," she adds, her voice barely audible. "It can be our secret until he finds the courage to say it."

Sarah breaks the hug then, squeezing Jane's hands as she lets go. "See you both in the morning," she calls, waving a hand over her shoulder as she heads to bed. "And Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Jane and Kurt echo, and Jane turns around as she hears Kurt finally get to his feet.

When she had arrived earlier in the day, Jane had half-expected to head home with her detail after dinner, but when Kurt takes her hand and starts towards his bedroom, she doesn't say a word about it. She's more than happy to spend another night here, with him. With her family.

They change without a word, her pulling a pair of shorts and a tank top out of a drawer he'd set aside for her weeks ago now, smiling as she does so, with all of Sarah's words still running through her head.

The apartment is silent around them as they settle into bed, and for a few seconds, Jane just listens to the sound of the city outside his window: the cars, the shouts, the overloud caroling as a group of inebriated revelers passes by below… She feels Kurt lying, warm and solid against her, a little closer than usual because it's a bit cold in the room, and she decides she quite likes this time of year. She likes it a lot.

"It's late," he murmurs, yawning. "You still going to be okay to head out tomorrow around nine?"

Jane blinks for a moment in the darkness of his bedroom, confused as to what he's talking about. She thinks he's referring to work, until she remembers it's winter vacation, until she remembers _their_ vacation—

"Of course," she replies, too eagerly though she no longer cares. In all that had happened with Sarah earlier, Jane forgot about her and Kurt's planned trip to Pennsylvania. He's been telling her about that cabin in the country for weeks; he even showed her a couple pictures the other day. It's an old wooden building, a bit run-down now, he's warned her, but from the old pictures it still looks like it will be beautiful even if it isn't in tip-top shape. It's just a couple bedrooms, a kitchen and living room, and one little bathroom. They've got water, but no heat. And lots and lots of trees. He always smiles when he says that part. _Lots and lots of trees._

"I'm excited," she whispers, finding his eyes in the dark, bright and close. "I can't wait to see it."

"I can't wait to take you there."

"Tell me some more about it?" she requests, letting her eyes fall closed as she nestles a little closer to him, on the pretense of needing warmth. He draws her to him at once, and she falls asleep in minutes, listening to him talk about the creeks back in the woods— _cricks,_ he pretends to correct himself, and then laughs—and the floorboards that creak and groan, and the hope that there hasn't been too much mud, or they'll have to leave the car and walk all the way in from the road…

There isn't much mud, as it turns out. It's been an unseasonably warm winter in Pennsylvania as much as it has been in New York, and so when they finally get there, to that cabin about an hour south and a bit west of Clearfield, it's an easy drive up to the front door from the road. The ground is hard and packed from the cold, which makes for good driving on, and they despite the bumps, they speed down the unpaved dirt road towards the cabin, leaving the highway and everything else behind.

It's more picturesque than Jane could've imagined. Even though it is rather dilapidated—the roof looks like it needs a good summer of help—Jane can't stop smiling as she looks at it. When they get out, she just stands in front of it and stares for a while, taking in the little sun porch out front, the chimney towering above, and the square two stories that make up this beautiful little building. It's adorned with wood and stone, as much a part of the landscape as any of the dirt or rocks or trees around them. And they are _surrounded_ by trees.

"A little worse for the wear," Kurt calls, propping open the screen door as he steps up onto the porch to set down their bags. "But not bad for neither me nor Sarah being handymen, huh?"

"Not bad at all," Jane whispers, following him inside. It's even more charming in the interior; everything is wood-paneled, by hand, it looks like, and despite the cold that permeates the empty building, there is warmth everywhere. The large couch that dominates the living room looks like it's been there as long as Kurt's been alive (and it probably has, Jane thinks), and the blankets strew across the back of it look all the more welcoming for their frayed edges and Magic Marker spots. There's a soft, fluffy rug covering the floor between the couch and the fireplace, and more mats covering the tiles in the kitchen to keep out the cold. The walls are adored with pictures and embroideries and other lovely little touches she knows Kurt would call "silly" if she stopped to ask him.

She walks around the room for a few minutes, inspecting the pictures, watching as the Weller family multiplies and grows in fits and spurts across the walls, jumping backwards and forwards through time in no particular order. She's staring at a picture of Kurt as a baby, being fussed over by beaming parents, when she hears the full-grown version groan heavily from the other side of the room.

Jane turns just in time to see him toss his phone onto the couch, before depositing a heap of sticks and logs beside the huge stone fireplace.

"What is it?" Jane asks, coming up by his side as he kneels down to set about making a fire to heat the little building. "What's wrong?"

"Just my sister," Kurt shakes his head as he leans into the fireplace, sweeping some of the old ash out of the way before he starts building a new fire. "I told her we arrived safe and sound and all she sends back is 'Send me a picture of you two together there!' with like a hundred exclamation points. You know, it's nice that she's happy for us and everything, but I'm sick of her little Jane-and-Kurt fan club. If she makes a scrapbook, I swear to God, I'm going to kick her out of the house."

"I think it's sweet," Jane says quietly. She hasn't told him anything about what Sarah said to her in the kitchen the other night, but it still follows her everywhere, like a warm cloud that makes her feel good, even in this cold cabin.

 _You've made my brother so happy._

Jane closes her eyes, the way she always has to when certain feelings overwhelm her and she can't think straight. It's a second or two before she can come back to herself, and to this place with him. Kurt's setting up a bunch of little sticks in the fire when she opens her eyes again, and she leans closer, watching him.

"How about you show me how to make a fire?" she offers. "Then we can take a picture for Sarah."

He mutters what sounds like, "Whatever," but Jane ignores him, deciding it's best not to press certain things. He shows her where to put the logs, where to light them, and in about fifteen minutes, they've got a fire warm enough to start heating the room.

Jane sits in front of the fireplace screen, her back pressed up against the latticed metal, slowing feeling her body temperature return to normal along with the rest of the room. Kurt had gone upstairs after he'd finished the fire to put their bags away, and when she hears him coming back down the steps, she waves him over.

"Get your phone," she calls. "So we can send her a picture."

He rolls his eyes, muttering something about this all being very stupid, but nonetheless grabs his phone from its discarded place on the couch. She watches him type on it for a moment before he sits down beside her, and holds out the phone in front of him.

"Smile," she instructs, elbowing him in the side when she sees his reflection in the screen and notices him frowning. "Be nice."

He sighs, but does so, and taps his finger against the camera button a couple times. In between the pictures, she kisses his cheek, pressing her lips to him long enough so that when he takes the next one, his smile is genuine.

As they page through the final products, and finally land on one that's good, a clear snapshot of him grinning and her kissing him, he smiles and wraps an arm around her waist. "Well, aren't you cute."

"Hey, we've only got a one-woman fan club, like you said," Jane jokes. "We gotta keep her invested or she'll get sick of us."

Kurt shakes his head, letting her go so he can get back to the fire, poking it a few times so the flames flare up and catch. "Please. She loves you. As far as she's concerned, you're the best thing that's happened to me since I was born. And for the record, I can't really say I disagree."

Jane's glad he's turned away from her now, and stuck his head back in the fireplace, or else she knows she would've been caught out grinning like a complete idiot over a few nice words.

Busying herself with his phone, she quickly clicks on the first of the group messages in the drop-down menu that lists her name before the ellipsis, and sends the picture off to Sarah. Tossing his phone back on the couch, she gets up to join him as he fiddles with the first more, watching it spark and catch in various places, when a shrill ringing cuts through the cabin.

Jane gets up at once—recognizing her blaring, emergency-alarm-style ringtone for Tasha—and heads across the room to get her phone from the table by the door. It's only as she's passing the couch on the way there that she spots Kurt's phone, the screen still on, displaying the group message she'd sent the picture to.

Which, as it turns out, did not happen to include its only intended recipient, Sarah.

But it did include Tasha and Reade and Patterson.

Because apparently the last group he'd texted _hadn't_ been her and Sarah, but _had_ been her and the rest of the team.

"Oh, no," is all she can get out.

"What?" Kurt calls from the fireplace, now rummaging around in the pile of wood for the best log. "Something wrong with Tasha?"

"It's… Um…" Jane can feel her heart hammering in her chest, not helped along the least bit by the incessant screaming of her ringtone, and what she can only imagine is Tasha's maniacal smile that must be waiting behind the other side of the phone.

"Aren't you going to answer it, Jane?"

"No, I… I don't think I am."

That gets Kurt's attention. He straightens up, looking over his shoulder at her. He frowns when he finds her standing in the middle of the room, looking stricken.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"I, um, I may have—made a mistake."

"Okay…?"

"I may have… That picture… I didn't think…"

When it clicks, she watches his eyes fall closed. A second later, he's grinning, laughing, a hand over his eyes. "Jesus, Jane. _Really_?"

"I didn't mean to!" she protests, her voice shooting up about two octaves. "I just saw your name and my name on the group listing, and I didn't bother looking at the others on the list, because you said the last person who texted you was Sarah—"

"No, I never said that, but fine—"

"It was a mistake! I didn't _mean_ to!" she shouts, frustration making her voice rise and her fists slam against her sides. Her phone is still ringing shrilly behind her and she can't help but think that the best course of action right now will be to pick it up and throw it against the wall. Luckily, Kurt crosses the room before she can act, and grabs her phone.

"You know what's great about being on vacation?" he calls over the ringing. "You can ignore any and all reminders of the real world." He shows her the screen as he ends the call, and then switches a button on the side to silence the ringer. "See?" he smiles, eliciting one from her as well. "It's like Tasha never even call—"

From across the room, another bout of shrill ringing makes them both jump. Kurt sighs, hanging his head for a moment, before walking over to the couch to pick up his own phone and silence it. He turns back to Jane, holding up both their cell phones, the screens dark.

"All right. _Now_ it's like Tasha never even called."

Jane wants to argue—she can see their screens lighting up again, one with a call from Reade now, and the other with endless all-caps texts from Patterson—but in the end, she just shakes her head and laughs. "Fine," she allows, grabbing a blanket from the couch before plopping back down in front of the fire. "Whatever you say."

She listens to Kurt's footsteps come back towards her, and welcomes the creak of the wood as he settles down beside her. She loves all the noises this old place makes already; loves the way it has years and years of memories worn into its very foundation.

Scooting over to lean against him, Jane positions her back to his front so she can use him to prop herself up against, and lean back into. She closes her eyes when she feels him warp an arm around her side, and instinctively snuggles closer to him.

"It's going to be hell when we get back," she murmurs after a few silent seconds.

Beside her, Kurt shrugs. "Who cares? We'll deal with it when we get back, not now."

Jane can't help but laugh. Usually such a worrier, she figures there must be something truly special about this place, or the time off, that turns him into this easygoing person. She's starting to think she wants to spend time like this with him _all_ the time if it puts him in this good of a mood.

"Want to run away instead of going back?" she asks, leaning more fully into him. "Live out here in the woods?"

Beneath her, Kurt chuckles. He lifts a hand up, brushing some hair behind her ear so he can kiss the curve of her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. Leaning her head fully back against his shoulder, she wills him to keep going, but he stops there. She closes her eyes as he settles against her, wrapping his arms around her middle to hug her to him as he rests his chin against her shoulder. She can feel the scruff of his beard against her skin, and she rolls her shoulder involuntarily, quickly reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck and let him know she doesn't want him going anywhere.

"That actually sounds kind of nice," he murmurs a moment later, the room having fallen silent around them except for the crackling of the fire. Through the walls of the cabin, and despite the frozen landscape, they can still hear the sounds of birds calling out to one another, and squirrels scrambling up the bark of trees. "Think about it: We could settle down here, forget all the rest. We could figure out how to hunt, feed ourselves. Chop down some trees for warmth in the winter. We could make our own little world out here, you and me…"

It's a fantasy, she knows. They could never do that, not while her tattoos keep predicting death and destruction at every turn, and they're the only people who can figure them out. _No rest for the wicked,_ Tasha had joked once on a case, and the words had stuck with Jane ever since. If there's one phrase that sums up her new existence, she thinks, it's that.

But it's easy to forget it when she's here, with Kurt, in the middle of nowhere. With their phones off and no traffic on the old roads and the world seemingly miles away, what does it all matter? All she wants is to be with him, and why not here? Why couldn't they make a home for themselves here in the middle of nowhere, and hide from the rest of the world forever?

"Well, we _do_ have a week here," she says finally, turning to catch his eye. "We can make a world for ourselves in a week, can't we?"

Kurt grins, pressing a kiss to her lips, "It has been known to happen before."

Jane smiles against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his back as she turns in his arms to face him more fully. She closes her eyes and leans into him as she feels him draw her closer too, one hand in her hair and the other already slipping beneath the back of the long-sleeved shirt she has on. She's pushed off the blanket and is starting to work through the buttons on his shirt when he breaks the kiss, holding her at bay for a moment with a single finger held aloft.

"One condition," he says, panting a little already. "Just one."

"Hm?" She finishes going through his buttons and then links her arms behind his neck, grappling onto him to hike herself ever closer. "What's that, then?"

"We start with the day of rest."

Jane grins, laughing at the stipulation, and he shakes off his shirt, taking her in his arms so as to lie them down on the ground, her back against the soft rug, and him hovering close above her.

"So?" his eyes practically sparkle with mirth, the roaring fire reflected brightly in them, and she smiles, pushing herself up off the floor to kiss him. She takes his face in her hands, letting her fingertips linger on his cheeks, his lips.

"I think I can allow it."

. . .

 **Author's Note:** If you've ever seen any of the adorable pictures Jaimie posts on Twitter/Instagram with Peter Facinelli, that's basically what I was imagining for J & K in this. I hope you liked it! Here's to less than eight weeks until the rest of season 1 comes back!

Reviews would be lovely if you have a bit of time! I'd love to hear what you guys thought of this. :)


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